


Rest a while with you

by makesometime



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Established Relationship, M/M, Minor suggestions of sexual activity offscreen, Post Episode 155, Sex-Favorable Zolf Smith, Spoilers Up To Episode 156, Tenderness, just so much tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:21:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25995922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makesometime/pseuds/makesometime
Summary: “Nothing’s wrong, Zolf. I’m fine.”“Sure you are. S’why you’re avoiding everyone.”Oscar gives a tight smile at the hypocrisy, feeling the pull of it in his cheek. “And it’s why you’re here, half drunk and seeking out some company for your misery."
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 16
Kudos: 74





	Rest a while with you

**Author's Note:**

> Me again :)
> 
> I'm slowly getting through the Japan arc, and just crested through episodes 154-156 on a swirl of writing inspiration that meant I had to adjust my plans each time the story took a turn. This is mildly AU, if you happen to believe Zolf when he claims he's not romantically involved with Wilde which... sure, whatever you say you funky dude.
> 
> (no spoilers beyond episode 156, because I'm only on ep 157)

“What’s wrong?”

In his periphery he can see that the figure in the doorway of his office doesn’t move, but he feels the air shift as his words hit home. 

There's a pause. 

A small huff of breath. 

“Was going to ask you that.”

Oscar looks up from his work, pen still held uncomfortably tight between his fingers. The anxiety of the previous week hasn’t entirely left him yet, twisted instead into something duller and heavier now that he’s mixed up in the quarantine. It whistles through his blood like a particularly potent drug, his chest tight with unexamined emotion even now, even with Zolf peering at him curiously after disappearing earlier that day. 

The dwarf is loitering with his hand gripping white-knuckled at the door frame - if Oscar were going to hazard a guess, it’s as much to keep himself upright on tired legs as it is an attempt to appear casual.

“Nothing’s wrong, Zolf. I’m fine.”

“Sure you are. S’why you’re avoiding everyone.”

Oscar gives a tight smile at the hypocrisy, feeling the pull of it in his cheek. “And it’s why you’re here, half drunk and seeking out some company for your misery."

"Scuse you. Not a drop of alcohol has passed my lips since we hit Carter's stash in the cell." Zolf moves closer, trailing his fingers across the edge of the desk and almost managing to hide a wince at the lingering pain in his legs. "You knew about that right?'

"Both of them, in fact. Seemed harmless enough." Oscar reaches for his own drink, lets its strength burn the back of his throat and chase away the gathering emotion. "So am I to surmise you simply wanted to see little old me?" 

Zolf's lips twist into a suppressed smile at the lack of force behind his flirting. "You can do better than that." 

He pauses, because he's got into the habit of giving in too easily to Zolf Smith recently and it's terribly bad for his ego. But eventually he shoves the papers that litter one side of his desk away and he pats the cleared surface in invitation. 

Voice pitched low and gaze softened, he tries again. 

"Did you _miss_ me Zolf?" 

Zolf perches his weight on the edge of the desk and then pushes up to sit on it, metal legs hanging heavy and bumping against the drawer that holds Sasha’s letter, safe and secret until Oscar _knows_ , for sure.

"Course I did you daft thing."

Oscar tries to fight it. To maintain the steel rod that's been his spine for the past week, left at the inn alone to wonder over Barnes, Carter, Zolf, Hamid and Azu… There’d barely been time to process the fate of Sasha and Grizzop when he’d found himself facing the loss of everyone else he cared for as a particularly bitter chaser. 

He tries to fight it, but if he can’t be weak here...

Oscar sighs, allows his eyes to close, and drops his head to rest on Zolf's thigh. 

Zolf's fingers immediately card through his hair like it hasn't been weeks since they last did this, his touch soft and steady even as it catches on tangles. 

There's nothing quite like this in his life anymore, even if it is for good reason. The past few years of intrigue and espionage, risk and frankly varying reward, have boiled down to this - the tender embrace of a weary dwarf who's learning to reach out in much the same way as him. 

If you'd told Oscar back when they met that in a few short years he'd find himself stranded in Japan with only Zolf Smith for company… well, he would have smirked and made a lewd comment just to annoy the cleric but _further_ than that, he certainly wouldn't have imagined being so contented. 

He wouldn’t have imagined _this_. 

"I told them." Zolf murmurs eventually, breaking through the twisting mass of Oscar's thoughts. "About Feryn. I _was_ drunk then. But only enough to make it seem like less of a terrible idea."

That explains the lingering sense of grief surrounding the dwarf, Oscar supposes. Difficult memories, especially ones that are stored in your consciousness as mistakes and failures, bring a sense of fatigue and emotional hangover that's hard to shift. He remembers when he told Zolf about Grizzop barely three weeks ago, restless and tearful and _guilty_ , because he didn't stop the goblin from going to Rome and now his friend is _dead — _

Zolf's fingers move to span the base of his neck, kneading strong knuckles into the knots that reside in his shoulders. "That's enough of that. Won't have both of us spiralling tonight."

"You're too good to me." Oscar murmurs, settling his hand on Zolf's other thigh. Increasing the contact between them grips his heart with sudden necessity, quarantine be damned. 

Zolf's laugh is one of those gifts that Oscar knows to cherish, feels the wash of it all the way down to his toes.

"I probably am, at that." He replies, the soft jibe landing like a familiar caress. "Don't think I care though. Enough shit in this world without me adding to it."

There’s a quiet peal of laughter from down the hall that makes Zolf’s fingers stop, warm and welcome against his pulse. It feels sluggish in his ears, quiet and sedate, in stark contrast to the way it used to rabbit along when he got too close to Zolf at the start of all this.

“Cel asked if we were involved.” Zolf says, as if reading the passage of his thoughts.

“What did you tell them?” 

Oscar doesn’t need to look to know the lingering silence is accompanied by a flush on Zolf’s cheeks. “I said I cared about you.”

He tucks his nose against Zolf’s thigh, breathing in the pleasingly fresh scent of his newly-changed clothes. “But?”

“... May have stretched the truth about the rest.”

In fairness, they’ve never really defined what exactly it _is_ that’s between them. Putting a label on something in the middle of the end of the world seems like a foolish prospect, even if it doesn’t stop the heartache and the fear from catching him unawares at times.

“I forgive you.” He says instead, because he knows it’ll make Zolf smile, and the flick to his ear that it earns is worth it.

“Course you do. You try admitting to a bunch of friends, strangers and... Carter that you’re sleeping with the boss on day one of a seven day quarantine.”

Oscar snorts, shivering when Zolf’s fingers spread to span his entire throat. “You make a good point, Mr Smith. Speaking of - will you stay tonight? Loathe as I am to get in the way of your _brooding_.”

Zolf gives a soft hum. “Cheeky bugger. S’pose I can.”

It’s not the most enthusiastic response Oscar’s ever received but it somehow means all the more. That Zolf is willing to break his self-imposed isolation speaks volumes. Oscar bites his tongue to stifle an expression of gratitude and reluctantly lifts his head, though Zolf’s hand remains where it is as it guides Oscar into a kiss that sends a delightful sort of shiver down his spine.

“Thought I’d have to wait a week for that.” He murmurs, once they part. They probably still should, but the damage is more or less already done.

“Thank Hamid’s kobolds.” Zolf’s smile is wry as he hops down from the desk and reaches for Oscar’s hand. “Let’s go. Before someone comes looking.”

Oscar wakes up the next morning alone, sore and weary in ways that would be more pleasant if Zolf were around to complain to. He gets the feeling he won’t see the dwarf for a few days, now. The swell of tense emotion lingering just under his skin didn’t truly leave even in the face of the previous night’s every touch, every kiss.

And that’s just fine with him. Oscar sighs, stretches, rubs a hand over his face and rises to start his day.

Yes. He’s fine. Everything is just… fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Hashtag Wilde’s fine, hashtag thank you for asking.


End file.
